Chryed Late
by Mushroom Hair
Summary: Time waits for no man.


_**For ardchoile x :)**_

"Why didn't the alarm go off?"

Syed hurled his wet towel in the direction of the sofa, cursing as it missed and flopped damply down onto the floor.

Christian looked across from the bed and mixed his cereal slowly around the bowl. Mildly he asked;

"Because you didn't set it properly? It is quite technical I suppose."

Syed, wet hair hanging in his eyes, dragged on his pants and grabbed a shirt from the hanger on the back of the door.

"Shut up. You have issues setting the timer on the microwave, and don't let's mention computers. Aaargh!"

He realised his buttons were done up wrongly and started again.

"Socks, socks. I need socks."

Christian chuckled through a mouthful of Weetabix.

"You need sex?"

Syed let out an exasperated groan.

"One track mind you. Socks!"

"Sock drawer?"

"Genius. This ones got a hole in it. Orange? What was I thinking?"

He threw them behind him furiously, scattering them across the floor.

"Finally, a pair that match."

He bumped down on the edge of the bed and looked in dismay at the overhanging material trailing from the end of his foot.

"Why don't they fit?" he wailed.

Christian paused in slurping the dregs of the milk.

"Must be mine. Too large for your tiny, dainty trotters. You know what they say, big feet…"

Syed shot him a warning look.

"My feet are a perfectly normal size. And I think I've given you conclusive proof many, many times that the old adage doesn't always apply."

Christian laughed.

"Okay, okay, no need to boast big boy. Actually my memory seems to be a little hazy. I might need you to show me again."

Syed patted Christian's leg through the covers.

"Only if you show me yours. What am I doing? I needed to be at the tube station ten minutes ago, I'm going to be so late."

He jumped up and clambered into his suit trousers, stuffed his shirt tails untidily into his waistband and crammed on his shoes. Grabbing his house keys he hurried to the door, blowing a kiss behind him.

Christian put down his bowl and called across.

"You'll need your jacket."

Syed raced to the wardrobe and dragged it out.

"Man bag?" suggested Christian.

"It's a briefcase."

He grabbed it up from the dining table. Almost across the small hallway when Christian shouted, he skidded to a halt, teetering over the top step..

"Oyster card!"

He swept back into the flat, desperately searching behind CD cases and under magazines.

"Where is it? Have you seen it? Oh Christian this is awful, I'm really sorry. It makes us look so unprofessional. And there's bound to be some delay or other on the tube to make me even later."

"Sheep on the line." Offered Christian, unhelpfully.

Syed stopped his frantic hunt and looked slowly at Christian who was lying back against the pillows, hands behind his head, gazing up at the ceiling.

"Yeah, that's likely. You seem remarkably unphased by this, considering I'm about to miss an appointment with the owner of one of the largest chain of gyms in London."

Christian pursed his lips.

"Whatever."

Syed dropped his bag heavily onto the floor and lay down next to him on the bed. Propping himself up on his elbows he studied Christian's face, puzzled.

"I thought you were all for this. The amount of phone calls I had to make to get him to see us, and the ages we waited. Aren't you excited about it? He was really impressed when he met you, told me he couldn't wait to welcome you to the team. He is all ready to sign the deal on the dotted line, Christian Clarke's world fitness domination, next stop the DVD, our own gyms, staff. I must say that I, for one, was particularly keen on the idea of staff."

Christian sighed heavily and turned to face Syed, twisting a curl of still damp hair away from his forehead.

"But he's offering me clients all day, and at evenings and weekends."

Syed looked confused.

"For truckloads of money. And a whole new clientele, rich business men and women, film stars even. Think of all those hot new bodies you'll get to look at, actually, no, don't."

Christian made to push Syed away.

"Quick, quick! Hire a speedboat and zoom up the Thames! Silly, I might be looking but I sure as hell wouldn't be touching. I don't know Sy, I'd have to travel miles."

"Kensington, not Ulan Bator." Syed pointed out patiently.

Christian stroked Syed's cheekbone softly with his thumb.

"What if he's got an ulterior motive? The offer just seems too good to be true, I'm worried there could be strings attached, and I'm not prepared to do that. He was checking me out behind your back you know. Maybe I'm not as ambitious as I thought. Maybe I like it how it is. Meeting you for lunch, being able to see you on the square. If I take up this offer I'll never be at home and what will you do? You might run off."

Syed nodded, his face serious.

"There is always that." the corners of his mouth upturned into a sweet smile and he ran his hand up, cupping the back of Christian's head, enjoying the feel of the spiky bristle roughness against his palm.

"I'm not going anywhere. And I'm not blind, I saw the way he was looking at you. I trust you Christian, I know you can deal with the lecherous Mr. Permatan, keep him at arms length. If you want to do it, we'll find time to be together. With the extra income we could move nearer. Or stay in hotels. We like hotels."

Christian eyes brightened with a wicked gleam.

"Yes we do. Free soap and room service."

"Starched sheets and Do Not Disturb."

Syed pushed off his shoes and lifted the duvet, sliding underneath.

"Or I could try and get us some more work nearer home, we could hire the community centre, you could start some classes there."

Christian began to undo the buttons on Syed's shirt.

"Mum's bums and tums, flab to abs, rough to buff, shit to fit"

"That sounds more like it. So shall I ring him and tell him I can't make it and that we've decided to concentrate on the physical wellbeing of the good people of Walford?"

Christian slipped the shirt over Syed's head and kissed his now bare shoulder.

"Mmm. Tell him the sheep on the line have been joined by camels, tell him I've developed a passion for pies and sleeping, tell him we just want to work for ourselves. Tell him in about an hour."

Syed raised his eyebrows.

"An hour! Do you know what? I think we may have made the right decision, we'd never be able to get you there on time. All those poor sporty people, tears dripping onto their weights, quietly turning to fat while we're busy getting our own exercise."

He slipped his arms around Christian's waist, his hand brushing against something square and plastic.

"Christian?"

"Mmm?"

"You seem to be lying on my Oyster card."


End file.
